


When We're Older

by obsessedwithstabler



Category: In Plain Sight (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Partners to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessedwithstabler/pseuds/obsessedwithstabler
Summary: "Hundred bucks says you die a lonely old man."
Relationships: Marshall Mann/Mary Shannon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	When We're Older

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble based on that quip Mary made to Marshall. Enjoy.

"Hundred bucks says you die a lonely old man."

If Mary Shannon were completely honest, she never thought she would live to see old age.

It was a brutal reality of her line of work: she had accepted long ago that her story would probably end with her going down in a blaze of glory. She had made her peace with it. And honestly, who wanted to be old and wind up forgotten in some third rate nursing home?

Not her.

Still, to her amazement she woke up one morning and she was sixty-five. Not only was she sixty-five, but somehow she had been married to the same man for twenty-eight years. And somehow she had managed not to kill him.

The tea was finally ready and she huffed a little as she poured two mugs. When had they become tea drinkers? It was beyond ridiculous.

Taking a mug in each hand, she walked out onto the porch. Everything was bathed in the setting sun and she handed a mug to her husband. "When did we get old?"

A familiar chuckle reached her ears. Marshall had aged with damn near elegance. He had more lines around his mouth and eyes from laughter, and his once chestnut hair now had streaks of silver in it. Mary sat down beside him and absently reached out to smooth his hair back.

"When we weren't looking," he finally replied, sipping at his tea. "And you still owe me that hundred bucks."

Mary raised one eyebrow. "Like hell I do. You're still gonna die a lonely old man, because I'm going out first."

Marshall tutted, wagging one long finger at her. "You're just a sore loser."

"Am not." She huffed and leaned over in her chair so that she could rest her head on his shoulder.

Laughing quietly, he kissed her head before looking out at the setting sun.

"Did you know that competitive art used to be a part of the Olympics?"

_Finis._


End file.
